Aphar

The six men stood atop the hill, the footsteps of the legions before them could be heared echoing throughout the rolling hills of Angmar. They drew arrows, nocking them and reading for the skirmish ahead. The hunter looked to the men and spoke softly, as if it was a whisper on the wind. 

The hunter walked outside of the gates of Aughaire, the window picking up the dust and ash that lay across most of the foul lands of Angmar. He wondered quietly to himself if these lands had always been like this, or if they were once like many of the others, lush, filled with beauty and mystery. He carefully made his way down the steep hill, knowing that these were but baby steps compared to where he needed to go.